


Dealing With The Devil

by MrsMoosie



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Gabriel doesn’t completely suck, Heavy Angst, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Michael is a BAMF, Minor Violence, Torture, mostly happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:14:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27230305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsMoosie/pseuds/MrsMoosie
Summary: Crowley is visited by Satan and forced into a deal: He has one year to make Aziraphale fall, or he will lose his own soul to the devil.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 30
Kudos: 74





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WhiteleyFoster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteleyFoster/gifts).



> I’m not going to lie. When @whiteleyfoster proposed this to me I think I fell over. You get that “star-struck” thing with her, you know? 👀 
> 
> Anyways... I made myself cry with this one, and I’m not going to apologize. No ragrets! 🤣 (I know that’s spelled wrong, go watch ‘We’re the Millers’ for that one scene. You won’t ragret it.)
> 
> So here’s some angst, torture, sweet sadness, fighting, BAMF reading material for you!

  
Crowley pressed a gentle lingering kiss to the sensitive spot behind Aziraphale’s ear, affectionately tightening his arms around his middle. He delighted at the tender skin beneath his fingertips and his lips curved into a smile against the pale skin. His eyes closed peacefully. It was getting to be quite late at night, and he was resisting the lure of sleep. He didn’t want to miss a moment of feeling Aziraphale’s warm body against his own, or the comfortable cloud of blonde curls pressed against his cheek. He was perfectly happy just where he was at, and for a Demon, that was something. 

Aziraphale was humming softly and playing with long fingers. He always thought Crowley would be an excellent pianist, able to reach across the keys with such ease. He smiled in his humming, thinking of the demon sitting at a piano like Freddy Mercury in his tight jeans and henley. How he would get lost in a great composition, his hair flying as his eyes closed, the sounds of the keys sweeping through every fiber of his being. Perhaps Queen. Maybe even Mozart… One of the Bachs even would do. 

“You’re doing it again.” Crowley mumbled, squeezing around Aziraphale’s middle.

“I am not.” Aziraphale said sheepishly. He had gotten into the habit of moving Crowley’s fingers as if they were touching those ivory keys over his stomach. Crowley chuckled behind him and let out a sigh, tipping his head back against the headboard.

“You know… You could always teach me if it means that much to you.” Crowley slipped his hands away from Aziraphale and touched his waist, thumbs stroking over where beautiful silver stretch marks lay, “A couple of private lessons…” Crowley would never admit to his fantasies of Aziraphale teaching him piano, standing over and touching his hands on the keys, breath soft against his ear. 

“I’ve told you I can’t play.” Aziraphale dropped his hands into his lap and glanced backward.

“So why do you want me to?”

“Because you’d be just so good at it, Crowley. I’ve been telling you for centuries now!”

“Why wouldn’t you be good at it? Tell you what. You learn how to play and I’ll listen.” Crowley grinned, playfully nipping his ear for good measure. Aziraphale practically purred at the touch, turning and gave him quite a look.

“Maybe I will. I don’t have long fingers like you do, reaching the keys won’t be the same.”

“They are long, aren’t they.” Crowley winked. Aziraphale’s cheeks burned and he looked shyly away, tongue flicking out to wet his lips. He had recently found out exactly how long they were, coming to appreciate their length and dexterity.

“You should get some sleep.” Aziraphale leaned up and kissed him gently on the forehead, “Don’t you have… I don’t know, demon things to do tomorrow?”

“Oh yes, many mischievous plots for my Angel to foil.” 

Crowley shifted up, pressing his smiling lips to Aziraphale again. Aziraphale touched his cheek and moved to the side, finding his clothing and dressing.

The pair had come to the conclusion to begin taking this new found relationship slowly. They kept to themselves after Armageddon, sticking to their same routines as before the world didn’t end. After about a year more of cautious pining, they realized that not a soul- damned or otherwise- were coming for them. It was at that point they felt they could experiment a little deeper, and explore the possibilities they always knew were there.

They had begun dating. Things went slowly at first, small touches to hands and brushes of hair behind ears. Their first kiss was in the bookshop after Crowley had expertly scared a rude customer off with his rather large fangs. Aziraphale practically knocked him over in happiness, which led to a very soft and very lovely kiss on the floor. With time it became more kissing, and touching, then heavy petting months later. Finally, after nearly a year their relationship culminated into a particularly lovely evening of wining and dining, a moonlight stroll through St. James Park passing by their old bench and to Crowley’s flat. Crowley invited Aziraphale in and they made love all evening, well into the next week if Crowley remembered properly. 

He had to remember. It is where he was now, a full week after that first beautiful night they had shared together.

“Are you going home then? Do you want a lift?” Crowley watched Aziraphale dress. He made sure his entire body turned into a dramatic pout so Aziraphale would know his exact displeasure at his departure. Skin was covered with clothing and he missed it already. He could easily stop time for another week and keep his Angel with him doing all manner of experimental things, but he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. That’s not what Aziraphale wanted, and he was at his beck and call.

“Nonsense. I think a little fresh air would be nice after this week” Aziraphale sat down to put his shoes on. Crowley slipped his arms around his neck and nuzzled into his cheek, naked body displayed to the air as the sheets dropped down from his waist.

“You really have to go?” Crowley pouted.

“I do, my dear. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, and all.” 

“Everything makes me fonder of you, Angel.” Crowley kissed his cheek and gave a snakey squeeze around his lover. Aziraphale smiled softly and turned his head, offering another kiss before he stood up.

“Get some sleep. I really have to open the shop up at least one day this week, for appearances sake.”

“Oh yes, of course. Appearances.” Crowley watched as he stood and headed toward the door. His heart was bursting, which was an odd feeling he’d never had before. He felt… sad. Almost lonely and missing Aziraphale for the first time. It had been such a wonderful week with him he was heartbroken for it to end. 

“I’ll see you in the morning. Good night, Crowley.” Aziraphale said as he opened the door.

“Night, Angel.” Crowley sighed, sitting in the middle of the bed. He watched as Aziraphale closed the door and saw his way out. He heard the front door close, and he was gone into London, back to his bookshop. Crowley sighed and lay back into his bed, looking up to the ceiling. His mouth slowly curved itself up into a smile, then he started laughing and he covered his face. Six thousand some odd years he’d been waiting for this to happen. Watching Aziraphale. Pining over Aziraphale. Swooning, wine and dining Aziraphale. 

He loved him. He couldn’t admit that aloud though… 

Bad things might happen.

_CRAWLY._

Crowley jumped up and took in a breath, gasping for air. He was covered in a cold sweat and was in a full panic. That voice… He knew that voice and refused to admit what was happening was real. It was a dream, he was in a dream and needed to wake up.

The room was shaking, his bed slamming against the wall. The floor was cracking open and a great red light was shining out of it.

“Oh… Fuck!” Crowley shouted. He jumped up and grabbed his pants, hastily stuffing his gangly legs into them the best he could. They hardly cooperated on a good day into those skinny jeans, never mind a literally earth shattering emergency. Things were changing around him too quickly, so he gave a frantic snap to prepare himself for what was surely coming. His chest hurt, he felt his eyes reverting against his will to their demonic, full yellow look. There was white smoke everywhere from the steam entering his flat. The heat filled the room, melting metal sculptures and his bed frame, setting fire to the sheets. Crowley was jostled around and shouted as he was slammed against the wall from the tremors. 

Two giant red hands came out of the abyss, great black tipped claws at the end of each finger. Giant black horns appeared next, a crown on the red head of the one he served. 

Satan had come to Crowley, for a very personal visit.

“Shit, shit, shit!”

_WHAT WERE YOU DOING WITH THAT ANGEL, MY LITTLE SERPENT?_

Crowley swallowed and raised his hands up, tilting his head away nervously. He had to think fast, he had to be quick on his feet. He had to protect Aziraphale… Especially from this.

“Lord Satan…” Crowley shrunk back and fell to his knees, hands dropping down to the ground before him and his head bowing, “I have… I have-”

_SPEAK UP CRAWLY. WHAT WAS AN ANGEL DOING IN YOUR BED._

Crowley had never sworn so much in his mind as he was doing at the present time. A week with Aziraphale in his bed. Of course someone was bound to notice. He didn’t want _him_ to notice!

“I was… I was tempting…”

 _DON’T MAKE ME PUNISH YOU, MY SERPENT. TELL ME._

A great black claw came under Crowley’s chin and tilted his face up, causing Crowley to squirm. He felt scales growing on the back of his hands, down his spine and he cried out in pain. Something akin to an electric shock jolted through his nerves, and his blood was boiling.

“I was tempting him, Lord Satan!”

_I DO NOT BELIEVE YOU HAVE DONE SUCH A THING. THE FEELING YOU HAVE FOR HIM IS NOT THAT OF A TEMPTATION. HAVE YOU LEARNED NOTHING?_

Crowley screamed and his body fell forward as that shock ran through him again. He fell forward, panting, tears falling down his face in excruciating pain. 

“Angels… Feel love. I have to- to feel- something so he thinks… He wouldn’t be the first to mistake attention and lust for love… wishful thinking and all.” Crowley babbled, curled up and cried out in pain, “If I am to get him to tell me he loves me… He needs to believe I love him.” It was muscle memory, this being able to twist the truth to suit Hell’s visuals.

Satan was quiet. He contemplated this thought for a minute and pulled his nail away from Crowley, tapping it on the ground. He alleviated the pain he had just caused, bringing the finger to his own chin in thought. A smirk grew across his face, then great yellow eyes closed. He was laughing, an evil, horrible sound even to Crowley’s ears. He laughed, and then slammed his hand down beside him, leaning forward.

 _I WILL MAKE A DEAL WITH YOU, SERPENT._ Satan started, an eyebrow raising and that sinister smirk spreading, _I WILL GIVE YOU ONE YEARS TIME. YOU ARE TO MAKE THAT ANGEL FALL, BECOME ONE OF MY LEGION. A PRINCIPALITY WILL MAKE A WONDERFUL ADDITION TO MY ARMY, WITH THAT VACANCY YOU CREATED WITH DUKE LIGUR._

Crowley thought he was going to vomit.

_IF YOU CAN DO THIS… I WILL NOT DESTROY YOU FOR THAT STUNT YOU PULLED WITH MY DISOBEDIENT SON._

Crowley nodded, swallowing down his sick, “Yes… Yes Lord Satan.”

_I WILL RETURN IN ONE YEAR TO COLLECT MY SOUL, OR TO DESTROY YOURS._

Satan gave a disgusting laugh, flicking Crowley back against the wall like a crumb from a table. The smoke rose, surrounding him and filling the room. Crowley leaned against the wall, dazed and delirious from the torture he’d just endured. He watched as the floor closed, and his room was put back to normal.

Everything turned to black.

~**~**~

Crowley awoke on the floor of his flat and winced as he shifted to lay on his back. Everything hurt, from head to toe which meant it wasn’t a dream. He was here, really here in person and really did speak with him.

“Shit.” Crowley groaned. He slapped a hand over his face and closed his eyes tightly. He remembered his blood boiling, the shocks running through his veins, the pain that nearly tore his corporation into pieces. He told Satan a blatant lie, to his face, while being tortured. He did have to admit he had balls, but that… Was ballsy.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” Crowley grumbled. He rolled over and yelped in pain as he stood. No miracle would get rid of that pain, it would have to settle and go away on its own. Crowley felt his head spin and he leaned into the wall. It was almost like every hangover he’d ever had combined into one morning, and he was living through them all. 

Aziraphale… 

He had to warn him. Right? Could he warn him? What if Satan had him under observation? What if they were to find out about them and destroy them both? There had to be a way to avoid this, to get Aziraphale to realize what was happening? In one year he’d be dead, or Aziraphale would fall. Crowley clenched his hands at his side against the wall and felt his eyes grow wet. It wasn’t a hard decision for him, really. 

He just had to make this year count.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has made me nearly cry several times over, every time I read it. 
> 
> Consider that your crippling angst/sadness warning. I don’t think I want to read it again. 
> 
> Hahaha who am I kidding of course I will. I don’t have a heart!

Crowley slapped an expiration date on himself without a pause or hesitation. There was no deliberation needed, as there was no other option but to save Aziraphale one last time so he can stay on Earth. He’d always said, if you were going to go, then go in style. What better way to go than throwing himself down in front of Satan, protecting the love of his life… He wondered if their story would get picked up by some big Hollywood producer in America, or turned into a steamy romance novel that he desperately hoped Aziraphale would at least give a chance. Aziraphale would be allowed to remain on Earth, regardless. He could listen to his Schubert and Bachs, visit his restaurants and eat his pastries. He could live with his books and his art, and his beautiful smile lighting up the room. His fine taste for wines and culture. His soft skin and loving, caring voice. His ridiculous tartan bow ties and century old cream jacket. His tender touch and strong arms.

Crowley was not having an easy time coming to terms with this idea. While it was an obvious choice to be made on his part, the reality of their brand new relationship being forced apart before they were given a chance to allow it a chance was the harshest reality he was facing.

He began thinking of all the thousands of things he still had to do. He was wasting time, precious time that he should have been spending with Aziraphale, touching Aziraphale, talking and laughing and listening to him. He was so deep inside of his own head and detached from the rest of he world that he couldn’t bring himself to admit that maybe… Just maybe there was a choice in this matter. Maybe there was a third option. There had to be a loophole...

“NO.” Crowley snapped at himself. 

“Crowley!” Aziraphale shouted, reaching over and touching his hand, “Honestly, what has gotten into you today? You’re so quiet and lost in your own thoughts… Now you’re shouting- did you not sleep enough?”

Crowley snapped his eyes back to reality. They had been sitting at one of Aziraphale’s favorite little cafes, drinking coffee and Crowley still hadn’t touched his cup. Not that he typically did, but he didn’t even push it away. Everything began to filter back into his brain- the sounds of traffic and chatter, Aziraphale’s cologne anchoring him back into the present, away from the chaotic tornado of worry and concern happening in his mind.

“No- No, Angel I’m just fine…” He lied.

“I don’t think you are…” Aziraphale frowned, “You’re very off, and you need to tell me what is wrong.”

“Nothing.”

“Crowley I have known you for six thousand blasted years. I know when something is wrong with you, and I demand you tell me the truth.” Aziraphale started in with the sad puppy eyes and leaned forward, “I cannot have you lying to me like this about something I can possibly help you with. We’re in this relationship now, and that comes with communication and trust. Now if you please-”

“I’m dying.”

Aziraphale’s mouth opened and he gaped like a fish out of water for a moment. Crowley had never seen Aziraphale gobsmacked like this before, and he so wanted to see this moment happen again within the next year. His blonde brow furrowed together and his eyes closed, absorbing these two words. They didn’t make sense.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

Crowley sighed and leaned back, looking up at the sky. He just watched a flock of birds go by and felt tears spring into his eyes. He was going to miss feeding the ducks.

“I’m dying, Aziraphale. Got the news yesterday after you left.”

“Crowley that’s… That’s not possible. You’re immortal, we’re supernatural beings, we live forever we can’t…  _ die _ .”

“Well… Apparently my time is running out. Saa-omeone from head office came… Still an employee you know. Told me I have a year to wrap up my work.”

“You can’t be serious…” Aziraphale paled and leaned forward, “You can’t… You can’t possibly be leaving. We- after everything they’re going to pull you back down and put you behind a desk?”

“Not exactly…” Crowley looked to the side and pushed his glasses back up his nose, trying to stop the tear from falling down his cheek. 

“Crowley tell me… Please you’re… You’re scaring me.”

“My existence as a demon is being terminated due to a lack of understanding the job requirements set forth by my superiors.” Crowley leaned over the table and let the tears flow down his face. Any hope of keeping that cool exterior was gone, and his face would soon be a red, blotchy mess. It wasn’t exactly a lie. It was a very, stretched out and thin layer of the truth.

“We- No!” Aziraphale jumped up and his chair fell backwards behind him, slamming onto the ground. The other patrons of the cafe turned at the sound and stared for a moment, chattering amongst themselves. Aziraphale’s hands fisted at his side and he shook violently. Tears began to spring into his eyes, and Crowley wondered if Angels cried holy water. He pushed the thought from his mind, allowing his gaze to follow Aziraphale’s movements as he came to stand beside him. He looked up into wet, blue eyes from behind his dark glasses, a bit nervous. He knew there was a reason Aziraphale was a Principality, one of four chosen from billions of Angels to guard the gates of Eden. It seemed he could change from a soft marshmallow, to extreme intimidation at will.

“This is not happening.” Aziraphale snapped. He grabbed Crowley’s arm roughly and jerked him to stand up, then began to drag him across London while onlookers watched, confused and slightly concerned. Not a soul would call for help, or interfere. Aziraphale made sure, subconsciously throwing out miracles in every direction. None of them would remember seeing them at all, they would all go about their days perfectly normally.

“Aziraphale… Aziraphale stop!”

“No!” Aziraphale gripped tighter as his pace quickened. The pressure on Crowley was surely bruising the skin and adding injury to Crowley’s already sore body. Crowley yelped and pushed at him with his other hand.

“Aziraphale stop! There’s nothing that can be done! Where are you taking me?”

“Our bench!” Aziraphale yelled. He gave up and decided this was taking too long. With a snap, they were situated on their regular bench at St. James’ Park, in their normal seats, but very uncomfortable. The couple that had been sitting there before were very confused to find themselves closer to the palace, but shrugged and continued on their way.

“Aziraphale  _ please _ …” Crowley fought his voice from cracking, “We can’t make this go away. This isn’t tricking Heaven and Hell. This isn’t Armageddon where we can conveniently tell Adam to change reality. There’s no changing places, pulling the wool over their eyes. This is it…”

“Crowley if we just think about this… I’m sure we can-”

“Let it go, Angel…” Crowley’s hands came to touch Aziraphale’s face. His thumb stroked over his cheek, brushing the tears away. They burned, but not because they were holy water. Crowley knew the pain that was within those tears, the heartache and fear. 

“I can’t… I won’t let you go.” Aziraphale hiccuped, grabbing onto Crowley and pulling him in tightly. Crowley looked over Aziraphale’s shoulder, his hands falling limp to his sides. He noticed the gates that led from the park to the Palace where he could see the flag waving high in the breeze. She was home- he knew that She would outlive him at this rate. “Crowley we were just fine… What happened… Why is this happening to us?”

Crowley was pulled back out of his musings and shook his head quietly. He couldn’t say it. He wouldn’t make Aziraphale say it. If Aziraphale said it, Crowley’s ‘temptation’ would be accomplished and he would certainly fall. Of all the sins of man, of all the sins in Heaven, he wouldn’t let Aziraphale fall because of this one. 

“It’s complicated, Angel.” Crowley finally said. He cursed himself for even talking.

“What is? Us? Is it because of what we did together? Crowley I’ll never do it again! I promise, we never have to if it stops this. I’ll be strong! We can go back to how it was before, and we can just be friends. Just… Just as long as you don’t leave me, please. Just being by your side would be enough.”

“It’s not that Angel.” Crowley was stoic. He was tired and depressed. The pain was turning severe and this wasn’t helping. He wished he could just keep his mouth shut.

“Please…” Aziraphale was begging into his shoulder, soaking his shirt with his tears, “Please, Crowley…” Those strong fingers dug into his back and held him tightly. Crowley could hardly lift his arms to comfort his Angel. He leaned forward and rested his head onto Aziraphale’s shoulder and closed his eyes.

“I’m tired, Angel.” He whispered, “I’m just so damn tired of it all.”

Aziraphale shook his head and choked out a sob. Crowley wished he were back at the bookshop, on the couch with his favorite blanket that smelled of Aziraphale. He wanted to lay down beneath it with his head on Aziraphale’s chest and live out the remainder of his days. His last minutes he’d tell Aziraphale why… He at least deserved to know.

“I don’t understand…” Aziraphale said quietly, “I want to understand.”

“You don’t.” Crowley shook his head, “I’m done with this, with everything. I’m done bargaining and scheming. I don’t want to waste this time we have left, I just want to spend my final days with you if I’m allowed with no holding anything back.”

“Yes… Yes of course I’m not leaving your side. We can… We can run away and rent a cottage together, by the sea. You like the ocean, right? We’ll retire to the coast, away from the city where we can see your stars. You always loved the stars. We can have a garden and you can have your plants, and I’ll bring my books. It’s not running away to another planet but we can… We can go off together. Like you always wanted.”

Crowley felt his lips turn into a small smile at the memory, at the admission that finally, despite his words at the time, he really did want to run away with him. He looked up above them to the sky. To Alpha Centauri… Like he asked all those years ago. Just the two of them, together on a planet in the stars. That would be lovely, right? Aziraphale could keep the cottage once he was gone, too. It’d be a parting gift of sorts. Somewhere for Aziraphale to stay that they had shared together, something that was both of theirs for once. He could have his books, and Crowley’s plants. Maybe there would be a swing they could share under an apple tree in the yard.

“I think I’d like that, Angel… I’d like that very much.”

They remained on the park bench, talking and touching hands for the remainder of the day until the sun went down. Crowley decided he would miss the sunsets over St. James. The sun dipping down into the water over the duck pond was majestic, and a reminder that just one more day had passed on in the life of the Earth. One more day closer to the end of his own existence, as well. 

Gradually they decided to leave the garden and retire to the bookshop. Aziraphale closed the door behind them and watched as Crowley walked in, his head craning around and admiring every volume, shelf and knick knack that was present near him with adoration. It was musky, and dusty, but he was going to miss every second that they had spent here together. He tried not to cry, he tried every play in his book to hold back the tears but he couldn’t. He ripped his glasses off and threw them to the side, collapsing to the ground and sobbing hysterically. 

“Crowley!” Aziraphale shouted. He ran to him and knelt down, touching his shoulder.

“I’m scared, Aziraphale… I can’t be but I’m absolutely frightened of losing you, and leaving you behind. I’ve never been more petrified of anything in my existence.”

“I know, Crowley…” Aziraphale pulled him in tightly and held him close, “I know. I’m here for you, Crowley… I lo- mmph!”

Crowley slapped his hand over Aziraphale’s mouth, shoving him. Aziraphale’s eyes widened and he yelped as he fell onto his back, his head knocking into the hardwood floor. Crowley knelt over the Angel and snarled dangerously, his eye twitching.

“NO!” He shouted, “I will  _ not  _ let you fa-” Crowley ripped his hand away from Aziraphale and backed away hastily. Aziraphale lay, confused and stiff. The entire day had been hell. How could it possibly be getting worse?

“You will… Not let me what?” He asked, his chest swelling with a mixed bag of emotions.

“Aziraphale I can’t-”

“You will not. Let me what, Crowley?!” 

Crowley shrunk back, his eyes closing tightly. He couldn’t. He had to keep his mouth shut. He couldn’t let Aziraphale know… Though… The bookshop was heavily protected…

“I don’t know if I should tell you…” Crowley said cryptically. Aziraphale sat up and glared angrily.

“You  _ what _ ?!”

“I don’t know. If I should  _ tell  _ you.” Crowley repeated himself with a look. Aziraphale squinted his eyes and finally, it dawned on him. He closed his eyes and pressed his fingers to his temples, scanning the ethereal horizon for anyone, or anything, that may be listening.

“Tell me.” Aziraphale said, “What the bloody hell is going on, Crowley?”

Crowley closed his eyes and copied Aziraphale’s prior stance, searching for eavesdroppers. 

It was empty.

He spilled quickly, telling Aziraphale what had happened after he left. How  _ He _ had come asking questions. How He had tortured him, boiling his blood and electrocuting his veins. How He then gave him an ultimatum.

“You… You were going to die for me…” Aziraphale had crawled to sit in front of Crowley on the floor and was holding his hands, “You were willing to sacrifice yourself, and everything…”

“I was, and I am, Angel… I won’t have you fall, I can’t. I’d never forgive myself, and I’m a demon. You know…  _ unforgivable _ .”

Aziraphale nodded and squeezed his hands tighter, his mind racing. What could they do? How did they get out of this? Was there something that Heaven could do to stop this? They’d protect their own, and if Crowley came forward willing to-

Oh…

“Crowley I can help.”

“No.” Crowley frowned.

“You didn’t even let me talk!”

“You’re going upstairs for help.” Crowley squinted at Aziraphale knowingly. 

“If you just let me talk to them, I’m sure that they-”

“No! Aziraphale they tried to destroy you once, and now you think they’re going to help you out? They’re not going to just… Save a demon because you say so.”

“Crowley they’re threatening me. I’m still on their payroll, and if you come forward they might- I mean there’s a chance… They could…”

“No.”

“Redeem you?”

“Absolutely not. I’d rather tell Beelzebub and be destroyed now.”

“Crowley please!” Aziraphale pleaded, “You have to let me try…  _ Please _ .” 

Crowley was instantly suckered into those big puppy eyes of Aziraphale and sighed. He brought Aziraphale’s knuckles up to his lips and kissed them sweetly, pressing them to his cheek. Aziraphale was about to burst in adoration at the touch, at how absolutely sweet Crowley was being toward him.

“Only since we’re slim on options.” Crowley sighed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little comical relief. 
> 
> AND right back into the heartbreak. 
> 
> I maybe broke some people with this, sorry... There’s a personal backstory at the end of this chapter for you too.

“Um… I’m here to see Michael.”

Aziraphale offered a rather pained smile to Peter and glanced sideways to the elevator. It was blocked off by a golden turnstyle, which one needed Peter’s access code to allow entrance. Peter was always a stickler for security, and he ran a very tight ship.

Peter gave Aziraphale a once over, curious to why exactly  _ he _ was here. He knew all about the last time the Principality Aziraphale was here, and he was not impressed. Peter gave a grunt and leaned to the side to look behind Aziraphale and gave a deeper frown.

Crowley gave a very uncomfortable wave. He felt  _ cold _ . Like there was no love in the room for him and his presence before the gates, in Heaven in general, was unwelcomed. Crowley could liken it to what it felt like when getting caught crashing a party. He hadn’t been in Heaven since Aziraphale’s Hell Fire incident, and before that well… It was a long time ago, indeed.

“That one is not allowed in.” Peter said gruffly. 

“Please, if you can just call Michael this is very important.”

“No.” Peter huffed. He waved at someone coming up behind them, checking them off on a translucent celestial tablet resting on his desk before allowing them passage. Peter wasn’t happy with the newfangled technology that had been implemented, but at least it was somewhat easy to use. Some days, he missed his book and quill.

“Peter. Please, this is… This is a hostile situation!”

“Well then come back when you’ve been properly judged, and I can let you in.”

Aziraphale’s eye twitched angrily and suddenly he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Let me.” Crowley stepped forward, leaning onto Peter’s desk, “Listen, Peter is it? Do me a favor and dial the number. You don’t want someone finding out that you were the reason one of God’s Principalities fell to Hell, hm?”

Peter’s face flatlined. He didn’t move an inch.

“You’re alright being the reason for a Principality falling.” Crowley deadpanned.

“Didn’t he already fall?” Peter finally raised an eyebrow. He waved another soul in and pressed the button to open the turnstyle. Crowley tried to reach over to press the magically button but his hand was swiftly slapped away.

“Hey! Look, I’m still the only demon here, Now, as much as I am enjoying the subzero temperatures, I think if you can  _ please _ be a good little receptionist. Buzz someone that’s actually important and open that little gate of yours so we can make sure this Angel’s status is not revoked.”

“He was already revoked.”

“No he wasn’t!” Crowley yelled angrily. His eyes were yellow, and he could have sworn scales were growing up his back. Peter grinned. He loved his job.

“Aziraphale?” 

Aziraphale and Crowley looked behind them to where the voice came from. It was soft and serene, not to be confused as kind. They knew better than to trust it though. It was the greatest warrior Heaven had ever seen. She was the one who wielded the blade that cast Satan into the depths of hell. She was also the one who dumped holy water into a clawfoot bathtub to destroy Crowley a few years ago. Aziraphale’s greatest achievement, calling him ‘dude’ and asking for a bath towel.

“Michael…” Aziraphale sighed happily, “Oh we just came here looking for you. See there is a thing happening, and-”

“Come inside.” Michael said quietly, “Both of you.” She wrinkled her nose at Crowley and nodded to Peter. He gladly opened the gate for Michael, allowing Aziraphale through as well. He made damn sure that it closed quickly on Crowley, catching him in the back of the knees and causing him to stumble which he received a snarl for. Peter laughed it off and happily continued along his day. 

Michael led the pair down long hallways, passing conference rooms and offices that were busy with new intakes, blessing inquiries, and answering prayers. There was an entire department just to speak to priests, a separate for listening in on confessional booths, and finally miracle inquiries.

They entered Michael’s office and the door shut behind the three. Blinds were pulled to hide the view of the ocean, and all sound was contained. They were really alone, and assuming that the rules were being followed, they were under her protection. There was no safer place to be. Aziraphale stepped forward, hands clasped before him.

“Michael… I-”

“You brought  _ him  _ here? After the bathtub debacle? I looked like a damn fool!” Michael snapped.

“Thanks for the towel…” Crowley winked. Michael’s face turned red in anger and she turned to Aziraphale.

“God is forgiving. God can forgive transgressions. Gabriel is not so lenient. There better be a good reason for you both coming here today. A demon, in Heaven, Aziraphale?  _ This _ demon?”

“We’re in danger. I didn’t know where else to turn to. You…” Aziraphale clenched his eyes closed a moment and sighed. He had to reach deep on this. Michael had trained him before Eden, they fought together in the first war. Aziraphale always, deep down, regretted how they drifted apart as leader and subordinate once he was stationed on Earth. “You were always so kind to me, Michael. Crowley is in danger… I am in danger. It’s… Him.”

Michael sighed and sat down, pinching the bridge of her nose. This was the worst Monday she’d come by in a very long time, and she was not interested in drama today.

“What do you mean, ‘Him’?” She asked, “ _ Him _ , Him? Like…” She pointed down, “Him?”

“Yeap.” Crowley said, overpronunciating the ‘p’. Michael frowned, leaning forward over her desk.

“Tell me everything.”

Crowley, finding his feet were actually quite comfortable on the floor thanks to someone, recanted the story of his meeting with Satan. The torture, the ultimatum, just as he had told Aziraphale not hours before. Michael listened intently and leaned back, her arms crossing.

“So you two really did get together, hm?” She asked.

Aziraphale blushed and looked to the side shyly, “Yes.”

“Uriel owes me money.” 

“Ah! Isn’t betting a sin?” Crowley grinned. Michael glared dangerously at him and he immediately shrunk back down. It was one thing facing an Archangel with a fighting chance, or nothing to lose. It was another when you were on their turf, looking for a favor. Crowley knew he was lucky to still be alive at this point. 

“So Aziraphale, your status in Heaven is being threatened by Satan, and Crowley your overall existence is being threatened. Why don’t you just die and let Aziraphale live on then?”

“No!” Aziraphale shouted, “Michael I can’t let him do that. I… I don’t want to be without him.” Aziraphale looked up to Crowley, feeling emotional, “I can’t be without him…”

“So fall.”

Crowley balked, “Aren’t you supposed to protect your Angels from doing that?!”

“What do you want me to do about it?”

“How do we avoid either from happening? Can you help us?”

“What would you have me do, Principality? Crowley cannot rise. I cannot fight Satan again.”

Aziraphale looked down at his hands and grabbed at his waistcoat for comfort.

“Why not? Aren’t you Michael, the Warrior Angel or something like that?” Crowley leaned over the desk, “Did you lead Heaven’s troops into battle against us and win? Why can’t you do it again?”

Michael looked away, “That was a very long time ago, demon.”

“I mean a lot of things happened a long time ago. I’m not powerful enough to destroy or imprison Satan, but I won’t stop you from doing it if that means I can keep on living my life.”

“You- You think I can destroy Satan?” Michael’s eyes widened and she leaned back, “You have got to be kidding me.”

“No… No, Crowley is right. You are the strongest Angel under God. You may have a chance. Think about it, if I fall then others will fall too. He will come for more, he is never satisfied. If Crowley dies, I’m sure He will say we did it and start another War. It’s a perfect plan…”

“Satan using the two of you to come for Heaven…” Michael tapped her fingers on her desk in thought. The loud clicks vibrated through the room as her golden nails hit the desk. It was quiet between the three. 

“Be a real feather in your wing.” Crowley pressed. Aziraphale rolled his eyes and smiled. He’d heard that one before.

“Let me gather some intel. If we have a year, we need to be ready.” She glanced above her desk at the wall where an ancient, celestial calendar began to float in the air. 

“Then what?” Crowley leaned into the desk.

“We plan. We strategize.”

“And then what? If you win what happens? I know what happens if you lose.” He winced, drawing a line across his throat with his thumb.

“When we win…” Michael corrected, “We can discuss then. You are to tell no one of this, understood?”

Crowley and Aziraphale nodded. Michael stood and leaned over her desk, a glint in her eye. The promise of facing her foe on the battlefield for a final clash was thrilling. Even more so now that she had a reason to destroy Him.

Crowley quickly left the offices with Aziraphale and sprinted to the shop. Heaven was too much for him in terms of lighting and general goodness. Aziraphale was all the goodness he needed in the world, and he needed to keep that safe. 

“Pack up, Angel.” Crowley said outside of the shop, “We have to go.”

Aziraphale nodded, understanding and grabbed Crowley’s hand. He pulled him in and kissed him softly, lingering just a moment.

“Stay. I don’t think you should be alone again, especially since He could come for you.”

It was rushed. Packing Aziraphale’s books even with quite a few miracles was time consuming, and required quite a bit of maneuvering physical space when it came to the Bentley. They had to escape and quickly though. They had to hide.

They flew through London to Mayfair, into Crowley’s flat. Crowley began packing the few items he kept, but stopped rather suddenly. Aziraphale was staring around his bedroom. At the bed where they had laid together for a glorious week. The floor where Satan had surely tortured Crowley into submission. The wall he was ultimately thrown against. 

“Angel…”

“It feels… It’s like a nightmare.” Aziraphale shivered. He sat on the edge of the bed and clasped his hands in his lap, “I can feel it. His presence even now… It’s frightening.”

“Tell me about it.” Crowley walked past his plants and snapped them down to a more movable size. He breezed around the flat, waving and snapping quickly as he collected only what was most important to him into a single box. It was then shipped to the Bentley, in the backseat beside Aziraphale’s black hole of treasures.

“Crowley what if Michael doesn’t come through? We did mess up their plans… Why would they want to help us? I’m… I’m nothing to them.”

“Aziraphale.” Crowley was in front of him in an instant and on his knees. Long fingers stroked through his hair, touched his cheeks, made their eyes meet, “You’re… You’re  _ everything _ to me. I’m willing to die for you, Aziraphale. To stop you saying three little words that would make you fall.”

“Can… Can we say different words? That mean the same thing?”

“What? No, that’s not the point. I-“ and Crowley stopped. If it would make this year go by easier, without Aziraphale falling into the depths of hell for his feelings why not? If it was something Aziraphale needed to hold on to for 365 days to get by…

“Three words…” Aziraphale whispered softly, leaning into Crowley’s hand on his cheek, “How to replace them…”

Crowley leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, “Just say that.”

“Hm?”

“Three words.”

“What three words? That’s what we’re trying to avoid. I can’t help the-“

“No, no. That’s what you can say instead. Just say “Three words” and I know what you really mean. Get it?”

Aziraphale thought for a moment. It wasn’t complicated. Hell would of course have no idea what was happening and why they kept saying that. Heaven… Aziraphale smiled brightly, leaning down.

“Three words.” He trembled, and Crowley knew.

“Three words.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, Peter is such a petty bitch I loved writing him.
> 
> Three Words... Personal backstory!
> 
> So my grandmother died 10 years ago and my grandfather still carries a picture of her in his wallet, of course, he’s 83 and that is the love of his life. So 10 years ago I see the picture and written on the back is 6&6\. I still have no balls to ask what that means. Always & Always? No idea. So from that love note to my grandmother came three words. Something only they would know the real meaning of, but no one else they knew could decipher without asking. 
> 
> Sorry if I broke you again... 😘


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I hurt you with three words? Sorry.
> 
> Nah. Jk, here’s some more pain!
> 
> Also, I hear a lot of Hamilton words/songs in this and I don’t know if I like it. 😆

The Bentley took them South West, down the M25, and was certainly not pleased she was playing ‘Who Wants to Live Forever’. She received several dirty looks during the ride, before the song was quickly changed to ‘Put Out the Fire’. He was taking them to a cottage that Crowley would neither deny nor confirm purchasing the day before after an unhealthy binge watch of ‘Escape to the Country’. He had subsequently kicked the residents out. Well, they had awoken with the sudden urge to conveniently relocate to a tropical island, and with a hefty offer and convenient contract, it looked like Mojitos and sunshine for the remainder of their days. Aziraphale would never let him hear the end of it if he had done it the way he really wanted to- having them wake up in the woods somewhere with all of their possessions scattered about like a poor game of hide and seek.

It was just what he’d always imagined.

A large cottage on a cliff overlooking not the ocean, but instead fields, and forests. There were natural stairs that led down to the greenery, where there was a pond. Ducks and swans happily paddled along, building their nests in the reeds and amongst the cattails growing on the banks. The cottage itself of course had everything each of them could ask for on the outside, but the inside as well. Crowley was insistent that the home came with the state-of-the-art humidity regulated basement for Aziraphale’s rarest books, but Aziraphale was skeptical.

“It’s a lovely view.” Aziraphale set a box down. With a snap, he sent it exactly where it ought to be in the basement. Crowley stood beside him and looked out over the fields and forests, grabbing for Aziraphale’s hand and squeezing it tightly. It was not the first beautiful landscape they had looked over side by side- that would be the sparse desert on the wall of Eden. This was, however, the most beautiful to the both of them because they were together. They had a home that belonged to the two of them, and though it would be brief, the future was theirs. Perhaps it would be their last moment like this. Crowley pushed his glasses up his nose and simply stayed there with Aziraphale, watching over the land. It was what they had always done, for six thousand years. Watching, waiting, biding their time.

He really didn’t want to die. He really didn’t want Aziraphale to fall.

“Three words.” Aziraphale whispered, feeling Crowley’s hand trembling with his thoughts of destruction. Crowley swallowed and nodded, leaning his head into Aziraphale’s shoulder.

“Three words.”

They entered the cottage and quickly unpacked. Who was going to regulate their use of miracles and magic? Heaven? Things were put away precisely where they ought to be. Books into the bright, humidity regulated room. Plants onto the veranda in the sunniest spots. Mugs and teacups into the cabinets, and Crowley found places around the home and in the yard for their statues and art. He did purposely try to irk Aziraphale here and there, because old habits die hard. There was an odd book out of place, a statue on the wrong shelf, a random sock that never found its match. 

By the time they had finished, there was quite a beautiful blend of one another that fit together seamlessly as a two piece puzzle. Garish tartan blankets on the couch for each of them, as well as black and white winged mugs for the rare occasion Crowley had coffee. There were more than enough crystal glasses as well for their extensive liquor and wine collection. Upstairs in the office their desks and chairs sat facing the windows, looking out onto the sunrise. Crowley kept several of his favorite plants he enjoyed tormenting the most, and Aziraphale kept a fair few books, as well as a very specific painting he coveted above all else.

“Our Da Vinci…”

“I thought it added a nice touch.” Aziraphale blushed at the portrait. He knew they still looked the same, but… He remembered how fond he was of Crowley at that point, and how Leonardo had called him out quite a few times for blushing when he was trying to capture his natural look. 

They shared a rather large bedroom, something that they had never done in their existence. The bed was covered in a tartan quilt and soft, delicate pillows. There was a basket on one side with extra blankets, and each side had a nightstand tailored to them. Aziraphale had a coaster, an old alarm clock, and several books. Crowley had his electronics chargers, a similar coaster and a small succulent. The room had elements of both through it, such as a shared space for their watches and jewelers, art from their favorite periods in time, their colognes and personal grooming products, of course, and Aziraphales favorite part.

“A- A piano…” Crowley swallowed.

“I thought… maybe we could learn together. Since we have time.” Aziraphale said shyly, “Not… Not forcing you by any means, really. I just-“

Crowley swiftly turned to face Aziraphale and crushed their lips together, kissing Aziraphale deeper, more needfully than he had ever since they’d begun kissing. There were too many emotions flying through him, and this seemed his safest bet. Aziraphale was shocked at the sudden attack but became pliant under the touch, holding Crowley’s waist and brushing his thumbs against his bony hips.

Later that evening as they lay beside one another, Crowley found himself fighting back those damned tears once more. Aziraphale was sleeping, spooned peacefully behind him. His arm was wrapped around Crowley’s middle, as they had enjoyed the remainder of the afternoon and evening breaking in the new mattress. 

But the tears… Crowley couldn’t fight them as hard as he wanted to. His body racked in sobs and he curled in on himself, sobbing. Six thousand years without crying, not including when he lost Aziraphale to the bookshop fire. Now in two days, he had cried enough to make up for that two fold.

His mouth grit into a look of severe pain, because that’s exactly what this was. It hurt so deeply in his soul, he felt it was shredding apart, dissolving in water, sand in the wind. 

“Shh…” Aziraphale whispered against his hair, kissing it gently. Crowley trembled as Aziraphale turned his fragile body around, strong arms holding him tightly. Dark nails clawed at Aziraphale’s chest, tears falling amongst the dusting of hair over his muscular chest. 

“S‘not fair…” Crowley whimpered finally when his breath came back, “We don’t get time…”

“We just have to hope we have help, Crowley. We have to hope I can protect you.”

Crowley sniffed and shook his head, “No… No I- This isn’t about me…”

Aziraphale stroked down his cheek and tipped Crowley’s face up, “No. This is  _ all _ about you. This is about saving you, and protecting you Crowley. He is out to get you. I will not let that happen.”

“But the falling…”

Aziraphale leaned up and kissed him gently, “Will hurt you much more than it would hurt me.”

~**~**~

The year passed by rather quickly, as it would. Seasons and holidays came and left. Weather grew colder, then warmer, clothing grew warmer then cooler. A blur of colorful leaves, a blanket of snow. Spring and summer brought beautiful blooms, a bountiful harvest of fruits and vegetables as autumn reared its ugly head again. Crowley focused on each day they had together, making sure he remembered something about them all. He’d jot it down in a journal at the end of the day, something for Aziraphale to remember their final days together when he was gone. 

He wrote about the Christmas Tree and how it fell on top of him while they put the Angel on top. He wrote how Aziraphale complained the Angel was all wrong. Crowley snuck in a side note about how he maybe chose the one that looked a smidge like Gabriel so he could have the satisfaction of shoving a pine branch up it’s ass, hoping if he wished hard enough it would have a voodoo doll like effect. They decided on a star instead. There were entries how they stayed in bed all day, or sat on the couch all day. The first flowers that bloomed in the garden, and which ones Crowley thought Aziraphale would like best next Spring.

They practiced piano several times a week, and Crowley regretfully found he was actually rather good at it. Aziraphale… Was a good listener, and helped with the floor pedals. Crowley wrote every song they played together down in his journal. 

They slept together every evening, in each other’s arms. Aziraphale, not one for sleep, tried to at least only because Crowley did. He’d usually wake up in the middle of the night and just touch his hair, hum a little song as their limbs tangled together. Gradually, he’d escape into the basement, reading and looking for answers.

It really was peaceful and heavenly. Crowley wrote that down too. He wrote his regrets, how he wished they’d done this years ago. How he wished he never shouted at Aziraphale under the bandstand, how beautiful he’d looked at the bastille, how absolutely radiant he’d looked on the wall when they first met. 

He wrote it all.

~**~**~

Just like that, their year was over. There had been no communication or messages from Heaven that would make them think help was coming, so the worst was assumed. Neither cried. They had done enough of that over the last year that there couldn't possibly be more tears to shed. They spend the day in the garden, overlooking the plants and the flowers. They sat on a very specifically, possibly stolen bench and threw frozen peas at the ducks. The sun began to set.

“Aziraphale…” Crowley finally said, “Before anything happens I have some things to tell you.”

“I know.” Aziraphale grabbed his hand and squeezed, “I do too.”

“I have a few journals on my desk… They’re labeled in order. I want you to read them when I’m gone. There’s so much I can’t say that they will.”

“I know.”

“I wish we had more time.” Crowley adjusted himself to lean into Aziraphale, pressing their foreheads together, “I wish we could have another ten thousand years together here, like this…”

“Crowley… We can… We will. I’ll fall, we can be together still if I fall. I’m not afraid anymore.”

“Aziraphale-“

The ground trembled violently. Crowley shouted and grasped at his chest in tremendous pain, falling off the bench and curling up. 

“Crowley!” 

Aziraphale scooped Crowley up and focused himself. Great white wings appeared from his back and he took off, holding Crowley tightly and getting as far away from the opening as possible. If He was really coming, he had to get to  _ her _ .

“Aziraphale… Aziraphale let me die…”

“We have to go.” Aziraphale squeezed Crowley tightly and shouted. His wings flapped once, twice, and suddenly they were airborne.

“Angel?!”

“She’s waiting for us at the house.”

“What? Who?”

“I… I maybe haven’t been completely forthcoming with you. I really didn’t have a choice in the matter, see-“

“Can you maybe skip to the end? In case you haven’t noticed, my boss is pretty pissed and coming to  _ kill me. _ ”

“Ah. See I’ve been keeping correspondence with Michael while in the basement. Appears we’re not the only one he is after. Seems that everyone involved with the failure of his estranged son now has a devil shaped target on their back.”

“You mean…”

Aziraphale landed with a great gust of wind and settled Crowley down in the ground gently. Crowley met blue eyes, confused and turned to see two very powerful beings standing behind Michael. They were the last ones that he’d expect to see before him...

Beelzebub, and Gabriel. 

“Aaah… Hey guys.”

“Traitor.” Beelzebub snarled.

“Faithless.” Gabriel growled.

“Oh will you _stop.”_ Michael pinched the bridge of her nose, “Be snarky at one another when this is over. Gabriel, we talked about this! There was even a powerpoint presentation!”

“What’s going on, Angel?”

“Crowley. We haven’t told you for the same reason you haven’t heard from Lord Beelzebub. He has been watching. He knows everything. He’s always known.”

“Oh…” Crowley gasped and hunched forward in pain as the ground shook beneath them. Aziraphale bent down beside him and hugged an arm over his back, squeezing tightly. He lowered his head close to Crowley’s ear.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you, Crowley… But this is the best chance we have. You have to stay with me.”

“S’alright…” Crowley gasped, eyes clenched shut in pain. His breath was ragged, cold sweat dripping down his nose. One eye opened and he looked over, nodding, “S’alright, Angel.”

“Aziraphale, your sword…” Gabriel stepped forward, holding the blade out. Aziraphale helped Crowley to stand, glaring angrily at Gabriel. He looked at the sword, hand reaching down to take it.

_ I HAVE COME TO COLLECT THE TRAITORS. _


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween! 🎃 
> 
> Behold, the end! I didn’t plan this to be so long but guess what, once I start sometimes I just can’t stop.
> 
> Epic battle? Check.  
> Explanations? Check.  
> More angst? Check.  
> Happy ending? Check.  
> Gabe bashing? Extra check.
> 
> Three words. ❤️

The earth began splitting and shaking as it violently erupted. Massive gnarled hands plastered themselves into the ground and pried the land apart as a deafening explosion of molton earth shot great gusts of air out of the way. He pulled himself from the abyss. Satan. He stood, surrounded damaged trees and endless steam. His hands squeezed into great fists and he slammed them down, causing the earth to ripple like a wave toward the cottage. Aziraphale shouted and held Crowley tightly, taking off into the air with him. He had to get them away, far away where Crowley would not be taken from him. He had to protect him. Crowley had to stay by his side. It was the plan.

“Aziraphale!” Gabriel shouted, holding the sword. Michael’s face turned into righteous fury, a red, burning hatred in her eyes as she stared down Satan. The surrounding destruction of the field hardly registered as she calculated her move. She grabbed Aziraphale’s sword from Gabriel and brought her wings into existence, bright white and gold spitting from her back. In a measured snap, armor covered her body- the same armor she had bested him in before. Gold, shining metal. A true Knight of the Lord. She took off over the chaos, avoiding the waves of destruction coming at them, leaving Beelzebub and Gabriel, jetting like the warrior she was into battle.

Aziraphale fumbled as he landed, coming in too quickly, not properly adjusting for angles, and the added weight of Crowley. He was unfortunately out of practice. He lost his footing and cried out. He lost his footing, but his hold on Crowley tightened as they rolled quickly into the forest beside the pond. Aziraphale couldn’t stop the momentum, and tried to adjust his wings to slow them down. He gasped and let out a scream as his wing was folded in half, snapping the bone clear through. 

Crowley’s back slammed into a tree stump and he winced. It was hardly anything though, as Aziraphale held a hand behind his head and back trying to cushion his impact.

“Angel… Angel what…”

“Crowley… It can work. They met before, she bested- Ah!” Aziraphale trembled in pain, crying out as he moved just the slightest. His wing was destroyed, snapped clean in half and hanging broken off his back. “The falling… The final dual.” Crowley shifted out of Aziraphale’s grasp and knelt beside him. His eyes widened as he saw Aziraphale’s wing. It was bloodied and hanging limp, hardly being held together. Crowley felt his eyes grow even larger, angrier. They flooded yellow as they turned toward the battle. He felt a rumble through his chest like a growl, nails turning to talons, and venomous fangs enlarged in his mouth.

“Angel… Your wing…” The realization escaped him, his voice dangerous with building fury.

Aziraphale gasped and grabbed at his upper arm. He couldn’t leave- he had to stay, he had to control himself and his temper. “Crowley? Crowley, no! This is what he wants you have to do! You have to stay with me, that’s exactly what-”

“He has broken you… Your wing, Angel… I won’t let him hurt you.”

“You have to let Michael fight him! Don’t go, Crowley please you have to stay away!”

“ _ Crowley! _ ”

Crowley snapped his head to the side and saw Beelzebub standing with Gabriel by their side. They came closer, completely unperturbed by the snake taking shape before their eyes.

“I’ll kill him!” Crowley shouted.

“You’ll do  _ nothing _ .” Beelzebub snarled, “For once thisss partnership is giving usss what we need. Since you two made us clean up the last messss, it’s been nothing but Hell doing the heavy lifting. Hell fire this, Tartarus that.”

“What? We cover for you all the time.” Gabriel boasted, “Look. Michael has faced Satan once before during the Great War. We’re going in to help. You two have done what you needed to. Now stand aside and let us go finish this.”

“ _ No! _ ” Crowley hissed. Aziraphale hesitantly got to his feet. He leaned to the side and cried out in pain, “Listen to them… Crowley, you and I- ah… We- We’re the bait.” 

“Bait…” Crowley felt his fangs retracting, the scales absorbing back into his skin, “You’re…”

“We’re here because the four of us were targeted.” Gabriel pinched his nose, “You two stopped everything, you’ve been doomed from the start. Lord Beelzebub failed Hell, and apparently he has a job opening he thinks I would be perfect for. Sound familiar?”

Crowley wondered if he had just admitted that he was in a relationship with Beelzebub. It was the same thing- One will die, or the other will fall. He certainly didn’t want to report to Gabriel, nevermind be within two meters of him. If he wasn’t so concerned about Aziraphale, he’d care more. He couldn’t though- his Angel was injured, and needed him to be strong. 

“Go!” Aziraphale shouted, waving them off. Gabriel brought out his wings, his clothing changing into gold armor similar, albeit more adorned with gems, than Michael’s battle tested suit. His own flaming sword came into being, much larger and similarly bedazzled than the one that Aziraphale was offered. Crowley smirked just a bit, but this was not the time or place to make a joke about a midlife crisis, or overcompensation. Beelzebub focused and let out great black wings, black armor, something like the Spartans would wear clung to their body. Dual khopesh swords lengthened into their hands. Crowley watched the two take off, soaring through the air toward Michael, toward Satan and uncertainty. Aziraphale watched as they left and a soft smile spread across his face as he staggered to the side. The right people, in the right place… It had to work.

“Aziraphale!” Crowley shouted and grabbed him, being Aziraphale to the ground and holding him tenderly, “Angel, your wing. It’s… It’s unmendable.”

“I know…” Aziraphale winced, smiling through the pain, “You’re worth it, Crowley.”

“Because of me… Aziraphale this-“

“It’s not because of us, Crowley… This is bigger than us. I… I’ll be fine. Wasn’t big in flying to begin with.”

Crowley felt those damn tears falling again and he pressed his forehead against Aziraphale’s, choking out a sob. 

“Aziraphale..”

Crowley was cut off as the earth trembled, and a great roar of disbelief was heard from the battlefield. He grasped Aziraphale close and looked to the source of the sound- It couldn’t be… The steam and fog were disappearing, the ground drawing them closer as it closed. 

The sound of Satan shouting as he was punished to an eternal dungeon, deep within the confines of his own land would forever be the most horrible sound not a single human would be able to hear. It was deafening, and horrible. The sound was full of the screams and pain of every soul he had ever damned. 

Crowley held onto Aziraphale as they were being physically pulled toward the battle, caught within the vacuum of hate and darkness. Crowley was holding onto him as tightly as he could, refusing to let go. It was a moment of complete disarray and Crowley knew there was only one certain. He had to hold onto Aziraphale. He had to save Aziraphale. 

Black wings came out of his back with a fwoosh and began to beat as hard as they could, pushing against the near gravitational pull of Satan falling to the depths lest they join him in his descent. Crowley struggled, trying to lift off of the ground but found it impossible. He tried harder, with everything he had and felt those tears falling again. This time it was in fear. Aziraphale… His Angel, he couldn’t protect him.

Crowley closed his eyes and held Aziraphale tightly. He abandoned the fight, focusing instead on Aziraphale and offering him comfort. He wrapped his wings around them in a cocoon. It was hardly quieter inside his wings, but the scent of their combined sweat and cologones in the dark made it that much more peaceful.

“I love you, Aziraphale.” Crowley whispered in the dark, for what could be their first and last time. Aziraphale smiled, a tear falling down his cheek in sentiment.

“I love you, Crowley.”

Just when they thought all was lost, when their fall into the confines of hell was all but certain… their bodies were jerked up into the air by a force stronger than either of them. Aziraphale grabbed onto Crowley’s shoulders desperately and his eyes darted nervously. They were flying, being pulled up and away from the earth and slowly back down.

“Angel we… What happened?”

They grunted as their bodies were deposited onto the ground gently. Wings unfurled from around them, and eyes opened nervously.

Michael stood, bloodied and bruised staring down at them victoriously. Gabriel and Beelzebub stood on either side of her, similarly damaged.

“It’s done.” Michael said. With a few precise flourishes of her hand, the messes of the earth were righted. The scorched ground healed, holes and trees were formed back into place as she turned around. The world easily regained its composure, its strength and structure. Gabriel leaned down and reached a hand to Aziraphale.

“We can't fully heal your wing, Aziraphale.” He said, “I’m sorry. Angelic wings aren't mendable… You’ve certainly conducted yourselves commendably today.”

“You both did.” Beelzebub agreed. Crowley sat up and looked to the three leaders as Michael finished her restoration. That was it… The battle was over.

“What happens now?” Crowley asked, skeptically.

“Now you live your lives.” Michael interjected, holding a hand to Crowley, “Here. Uninterrupted and free.”

Crowley looked at the hand.

“Crowley…” Aziraphale nodded assuringly, “It’s real… It was part of the deal I made.”

“Deal…?”

“See, Crowley.” Beelzebub began, “The four of us had targets on our backsss. So when Aziraphale brought you into Heaven and handed over thisss information you saved us from a fate worse than death.”

“In exchange for our lives, and because of the great heroism you have both now performed in saving the leaders of both Heaven and Hell, you have been forgiven.” Gabriel wiped his hand on his pants before crossing his arms over his chest.

“Forgiven… I’m a demon though, I’m-“

“What they’re saying is… We’re on our own.” Aziraphale smiled, a bit wobbly.

“Explain that.” Crowley frowned.

~**~**~

The cottage had been rebuilt by Michael, back to its former glory and prestige with not a book out of place. Aziraphale’s wing was mended to the best of Gabriel and Michael’s collective abilities. The wound was closed and it no longer hurt, but it would never have the functionality to fly again. They bid their farewells for the last time, and in a pop were gone. Aziraphale quickly took Crowley inside to explain. He sat Crowley down and poured two cups of single malt scotch, keeping the decanter close by for refills that were surely going to be needed.

Aziraphale had been collecting countless pieces of information from their cottage home and delivering it through back channels to Michael. They were, of course, located right near Devil’s Dyke. What better place to gather satanic information than above Satan's very home. When it came to light that Gabriel and Beelzebub had also been targeted, plans seriously began to move. 

There were numerous memos moved between the cottage and both head offices from Aziraphale, countless hours of notes and writing while Crowley was asleep. Double agents were involved, and spies on the inside. Aziraphale was only upset that Crowley had to be kept in the dark. It was all very James Bond-ish, but without the martinis, or the new fangled gadgets and gizmos. Aziraphale preferred his cocoa stirred, and with extra marshmallows.

Crowley had been singled out and was being watched, just as Beelzebub was. Aziraphale thought it safer to keep them both in the dark of their master plan that had been concocted. It would ruin everything if it was forced out of them and given to Satan directly. They needed an element of surprise, and they certainly brought it. 

Once Aziraphale had explained all of this double dealing, correspondence, spy ringing to Crowley, they sat in silence.

“Crowley, I’m so sorry I couldn’t tell you.”

“I know…” Crowley nodded, staring straight into his scotch and thinking. The fire popped in the hearth, the wood charred black, “Know… We said it and… I always thought that saying it would make you fall...”

“He was going to take us all no matter what… I think he will always be untruthful though. They don’t call him the ‘Prince of Lies’ for nothing. Things like love can’t make an Angel fall, Crowley. We are beings of love. I can  _ sense _ love.” His cheeks turned a soft pink, hands rubbing together. He’d been sensing it from a certain demon for six millenia or so, but always stayed quiet. Though, it was also a feeling that he had realized he felt himself quite a few decades ago, and finally allowed himself to come to terms with much more recently. Aziraphale did pride himself at secret keeping, “Besides, something far worse would have to have happened for me to fall.”

“Mm…” Crowley nodded at the amber liquid thoughtfully. He hated that he was taken for a ride, that he was forced into a year of believing that his life was ending, that Aziraphale was going to leave his life forever. 

“I don’t want this to change anything… I want to go back to how we were, without the sense of impending doom. When we were just living here and happy, I know you were miserable, Crowley. I want you to enjoy us now-“

“Aziraphale.” Crowley glanced up finally.

“Yes…?”

“You’re never going to be able to fly again.”

Aziraphale shrunk back and nodded sadly, “I know, but now you can take me anywhere you want… Or any place I want to go.”

“I don’t think I very much liked flying either. I think the Bentley is much faster.” Crowley plucked up his whisky and took a sip, giving the smoky flavors a bit of consideration as he replaced the glass down. He looked to Aziraphale and offered a rather lopsided, charming smile. 

“Crowley…”

“Three words.” Crowley shifted over and touched his cheek, watching as the flush spread across the skin. Aziraphale leaned into the hand and smiled brightly, touching his hand over Crowley’s happily. What better ending to this chaos could he have honestly asked for. A home, filled with everyone and everything that he would ever need in his life. The freedom to go where they wanted, to do what they wanted. Wings be damned. This was flying.

“Three words.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are always welcome!
> 
> Find WhiteleyFoster on IG as @WhiteleyFoster, and check out her Patreon! (Totally worth it, I promise 😍)
> 
> Find me on IG/tumblr as @mrsmoosie35 💜


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